The Paris Review - Fall 2016

of their own
devising, or does pattern
multiply to bud
and constellation—
to the starfish
now a mile
out to sea, shaped
like the center of
the radiant apple?
bonny and blithe
and good and gay
~~~
We held each other, palm folded
into palm, barefoot,
when we crossed the limpid stream
cut in the sand—
the spot where one water glides into
another and neither
returns to tell, and none will tell.
~~~
After the eelgrass
and the coral reef,
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